Blackdragon: Legacy
by Little-Firestar84
Summary: They had been in the past for over a year, and it was so different from the future they had left that they were starting to ask themselves if maybe they really could fix the world. But to do so, they needed their parents to aknowledge them and their existence first thing first. Starting with Francis. Who still needed to discover who his mother could be...
1. Chapter 1

"Legacy" is going to be a miniseries- seven chapters- and a still undertermined number of small filling-in chapters; the story is the sequel to a chapter of Blackdragon I worked on last year- "A snapshot at a maybe", and it's seen as a continuation of the Next Avengers' story after Avengers World; there are small spoilers for Civil War II, but they are few and small as it was written when just the first 2 or 3 issues had been released.

* * *

1

Francis hadn't been himself since their mission against AIM- that much James knew; what he wasn't aware of was why his friend had suddenly devolved to his old, closed-off self.

For the last few days, whenever they were in their brand-new, SHIELD granted playhouse, Francis would fall either on the couch or his bed, and stare at the ceiling for what seemed- and often were- hours, sometimes sighing, many times seemingly lost in his thoughts.

James wasn't a stupid, nor an idealist and childish and naive dreamer like Francis liked to portray him (often with girls, always to annoy the hell out of him); _of course_ he suspected it had something to do with their parents- but like way too often, he couldn't figure out Francis. Couldn't he see that they were all in the same boat? They were all feeling the same, after all. Stranded on their accord in a still livable past, so that their hellish future wouldn't come to be, with SHIELD- and God help them, _Director Hill_ – as their only ally, doomed to look at the world where their parents lived.

Parents that all of them had grown up without. Parents that many of them had lost at birth. Parents that, in the past they were stranded- their present- didn't know they were there- didn't know of their existence- and that weren't even together.

James, at crossed arms, stared at his long-time friend, judgingly; he wondered if he and Torunn knew how lucky they had been; Francis had lost his father shortly before joining them- and he still resented Stark for not having taken him in- but Francis had had his father, and Torunn still had both of her parents. This was a luxury that had been granted to none of the other teenagers.

"Ok, you know what? Whatever you want to say- either you say it, or get lost, because, pal- you are thinking so loudly you are practically _screaming_ in my head. I swear, you are giving my headache an headache."

James lifted a perfect light brown eyebrow, grinning lightly. "Eh. Didn't know you were a telepath, archer." He expected some crude remark, or maybe a joke from Francis, but it didn't came. Instead, the archer simply sighed, his gaze far away, his eyes as sad as James had never saw them before.

None of them spoke for the longest time, until Francis, going to sit on the modern couch in a fluid movement, with the grace of a ballet dancer, muttered few words that James hoped he got wrong.

"Forson said Mockingbird- Bobbi Morse- isn't my mother. Back on AIM island."

James shook his head, a bit frustrated, and stood at crossed arms before his friend and team-mate.

"Ok, first, why are we suddenly believing a madman who wanted to bring the end of all times? And second, it's been almost one year, and you didn't think you could tell us- _any_ of us- that this whole thing had been bothering you?"

As he finished talking, James slapped Francis on the back on the head, not too strong, and yet, he made sure that his friend would feel it. Francis needed to know- needed to understand, to remember- that they were all part of a team. They were all friends. Brothers in arms. If they couldn't, or wouldn't, trust each other, then whom?

"Pym knew." Francis pouted like a child- looking actually way younger than his years- as he massaged his injured head; but then, he chuckled, as James went to sit at his side and smiled at him, their argument already forgotten.

James turned to face the youngest member of the team- a child, in comparison to them- and looked at him annoyed and disappointed, his eyebrow lifted in a manner that was all his mother. "Henry?"

Henry was sitting on a recliner, right before them, and as soon as the subject of Francis' maternity had been touched, he had feared that his friend would have spilled his guts and admitted that the two of them had been up to something. Sort of. Right now, he was a little scared, and he would have given anything to be anywhere but there – hell, even back to the future-because _of course_ people respected Captain America, but James was too much his mother, the Black Widow, and she was the one who filled hearts and dreams with fear and terror.

"Listen, man, the only reason he knew it's because I asked him to do a DNA test, all right? SHIELD has all the powered beings listed and the likes because of the Super Hero Registration Act, so, if she was a meta, Mockingbird or not, she will be in the system."

"But I thought your father told you that Mockingbird was your mother…" James went on.

"Nah." Francis sighed, looking at the ceiling, his hands behind his head. "I never met my mother, and dad never told me her name, just that she had loved me since discovering she was pregnant, and that she had been among the first causalities when Ultron had taken power. I just added two to two, because he and Morse had been on and off for so long that people always expected them to end up together again, and because she had died during the first wave. But I can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe…"

"You should have told us, Francis." Torunn joined them, she and Azari having overheard the conversation; she was on her feet at the back of the couch, her hands either side of Francis' head, while the heir to the power of The Black panther was grinning, leaning at crossed arms against the doorframe that divided kitchen and living room. "Even if I can't help but agreeing with James. Why are you feeling like that only now, after months?"

"It's because I got the results. She indeed is in the system. Which means she is a registered hero. Or whatever they call them right here right now." Pym said like he was talking about the water, between mouthfuls of burgers; he was definitely his father's son, and someone who had been raised by Stark, with little to none tact.

"Francis is scared of opening the file, or even just asking me what I discovered. Which is totally stupid, because from what I read his father could have done so much worse. I mean, he dated Moonstone. And even a girl from the Mafia. And Songbird. And a robot without knowing she was actually a robot. And, "He added shivering, "My mother. Which is creepy."

"Francis, if you feel like this, maybe you should hear what Pym has to say. " Torunn told him sweetly, an hand squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. "Maybe it's time to learn the truth about your lineage. Maybe your heart's desire will be granted and you will discover that Barbara Morse is, indeed, your birth mother. You shouldn't have listened to Forson- he did call you an abomination, after all, and I can assure you, my friend, that I know that to be a lie."

Pym dismissed her with a wave of his hand, still eating burgers. "Ah, no, actually, I think I know why he called Francis an abomination. It was a racist comment, sort of. Seriously, Forson had joined the wrong band. He was better suited for Hydra."

Francis stood, trying to get some breathing room; he knew his friends meant well, but they weren't supposed to get involved in this. This wasn't about a battle or an enemy or even a secret. This was about him, and his blood and everything he had always believed in suddenly not being true and honest any longer.

"Why do I need to know it, thought? As far as we know, our future may never even come to be. Maybe when the Avengers came to the future to fight Kang something happened that changed the future as we knew it, and we'll never be born!"

"But we are alive, Francis. It means that we'll come to be. It has to, right?" Torunn asked, a bit worried. She had hoped that coming here would fix her family, her relationship with her parents, but if the guys were right, it would be all for nothing, and knowing- even just _contemplating_ this- made her suffer more than any words spoken from her father, more than the distance he had put between her and her whole blood family.

Pym lifted an eyebrow, clearing his throat. "Actually, that's the theory of time-line multiversal displacement: when the timeline is modified, all the possible futures change along with it, some of them diverging so much at that point that they become a new reality altogether. In simple words." Pym sighed as his team-mates looked at him at loss for words. "It means that this may not be our dimension any longer. Either that, or Stark wasn't too objective. I mean, The Winter Soldier is the man on the Wall- which is not a bad thing- and he should have turned into a Nazi double agent by now. James' father is married to Sharon Carter. My father has merged with Ultron and became a vengeful monster. Torunn's father is nowhere to be seen and the current Thor is a woman, and Mrs. Munroe isn't with the Black Panther any longer, Bobbi Morse is dating the Chair Committee, Doctor Doom is the new and improved Iron Man and Banner is dead."

"I think, "Azari started, serious and deep. "That I get what you mean. This could still be our past- just not as we knew it. Because we've never lived it. The only one who did was Mister Stark… and forgive me, but I'm not sure Tony was still in right mind at the end."

"Yes, and you don't have to forget that he was a mortal plagued by guilt." Torunn turned to face Francis, smiling reassuringly. "Francis, this is your decision, but I think it may do you some good knowing the truth."

"It could do _all of us_ some good. Maybe it's time we stop playing for Hill and we join the real heroes. Do you know that here they don't have a Young Avengers team any longer? Maybe it's time we stop going adjective-less." Pym explained, proud of himself for his quick thinking. Besides, he wanted for Azari to be right. Maybe there was still a chance for Hank Pym to be saved and become his father…. Maybe, just maybe… they could fix it, all of it, they could all come to be but this time in a world filled with peace. An Avengers World.

James, the team-leader just like his father before him, looked between his team-mates, grinning, a new light in his eyes; maybe Azari and Pym were right; this could very well be the starting point for the battle of the future; they had thought that not getting involved could be the best course of action, but maybe theirs was a time of action. And maybe, just maybe… to get to a better version of their world, they needed their parents to acknowledge them first. So that they could all be at peace. All have hope. Starting with Francis.

"So, it's decided, we are gonna leave the shadows and meet our parents and tell them about us. Are we all in?" He turned to face his companions, and all of them nodded, enthusiast and filled with renovated hope. "Francis?"

Francis rolled his eyes, and sighed dramatically, like to pretend he was being bossed into this; but James knew him enough well to understand that it was all a mask, that he was just faking it, that he was trying to protect his heart. He had never had a mother- what if he was disappointed? What it telling her about him would make it worse? He remember Stark saying that, once, Beast of the X-Men had dragged the original five X-Men away from the past, and that, when the young Summers had been hurt and his heart had stopped beating, for a fraction of second the "Old" Summers had vanished, ceasing to exist. Was it going to happen to him as well?

"Ok, All right, you can tell me what you know Hank, but guys, I swear that if I'll cease to exist I will hunt you like a ghost until your death, just so you know."

Azari chuckled, and patted Francis on the shoulder, grinning. "Wouldn't expect any less from you, man. So, Henry? Spill the beam. Tell Ol' Francis here who's his mother!"

Henry chuckled as he connected a primitive thumb-drive into an even more primitive personal computer; on the screen of the huge flat screen television, huge strings of data and words appeared, DNA sequences, pictures, icons of folder and sub-folders, all still encrypted and not making any sense to any of them. "The AIM supreme Leader didn't called you an abomination because you are a rogue experiment gone wrong or whatever- it's because AIM used to be all about science. And you mother… well, she was- _is_ \- a scientist, but there's much more about her. According to SHIELD data, she was rumored to have a connection to the deepest and oldest mystical forces of the Universe; she used to be the human incarnation of the Balance, descendant of both The Darkness and The Angelus between the world was remade. "

"Also," He continued, "the fact that she is your mother would explain _a lot_. I don't think you are such a talented archer just because of your father. She was a mutant with computer-like abilities. You may have inherited part of her power-sets. This may be why you never miss. It could not be instinct. Just your brain doing all the math even if you don't know it."

"That's all fine and good, Henry, but get to the point: who's his mother?" Azari demanded. He was the son of royals- and way too often in his tone, and his words, his blood, his whole lineage, would show.

Henry sighed. "You see, on one side, it all made sense, but on the other one, it's just…" he pause, looking for the right word. "strange, I guess? Because, if she is his mother, why her brother didn't tell you? How could he not know? I know there are record of how stranded their relationship came to be… and Azari said it himself, he wasn't exactly in his right mind at the end… and he had always been a tad manipulative… but to do something like that…"

"Henry? We are all expecting an answer…" James demanded. Francis was again sitting on the couch, his fisted hands sweaty as he gulped down mouthful after mouthful of saliva.

Words and images on the screen started to make sense, appearing in all their glory, in close-up, the image of a brunette, probably a little older than Sam and Roberto had been when they grabbed them from the future.

"All right, I'd tell you that I've got a bad news and a good news, but I will not, as I don't know which one may be. So…" Henry sighed. "News number one, you and Forson were right. Mockingbird isn't your mother. But… the reason it doesn't make any sense? It's because your mother was- well, _is_ –Stark's sister. Christine."

Francis looked at the screen in concentration, not sure how he felt about the sudden discovery. "Well, it could have been worse. My mother could have been Kate or a criminal. Or I could have been a clone. Or I could have been in reality Uncle Barney's secret son that Clint adopted or maybe stole for some unknown reason…" He was trying to be not too serious; he didn't want to think about what it meant if Stark was his uncle. Had he lied to them? nd if it was the case, why? And if he hadn't… how came he didn't know of his own nephew?

Azari lifted an eyebrow, still unsure. "She and my mother used to know each other… they were friends, from what I was told; it's rather strange that she wouldn't leave anything written where she spoke of this. Are you sure of what you are saying, Pym?"

Pym lifted a perfect eyebrow in response, quite frankly a lot offended. "Of course I'm sure of what I say. I've checked multiple times. Either all the tests came back wrong all three times, or Chris Stark is indeed Francis' birth mother."

"Wow. You do look a lot like her, man…"

Francis hit James in the back of the head. "Are you saying I'm feminine, Rogers? Because if you did, I'll just show you what kind of man I can be!"

Torunn studied the screen with a small smile, tempted to skim over the picture of the smiling woman with a single digit. "I think I can see you in her features, Francis. You are indeed your mother's son, my friend."

As Torunn spoke, both guys stopped playfully hitting each other, and blushing, they regained their composure, their eyes as fixed as before on the screen; strangely, the young Barton didn't feel offended any longer- not when it was such an angelic creature such as Torunn to tell him he looked like his mother. Somehow, if she was the one saying it, it seemed a compliment. Even if he guessed that Rogers too didn't mean bad- they were guys. And they were the best at doing what guys did, aka teasing each other merciless pretending they were machos without any other feeling than pride.

"Francis, I read here that your mother lives here in New York City…. What do you say, you want to go and meet her?"

Francis chuckled at Azari's words, and lifted his eyes, focused not any longer on the screen but his surrogate family of sort. "What do you guys think?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Legacy" is going to be a miniseries- seven chapters- and a still undertermined number of small filling-in chapters; the story is the sequel to a chapter of Blackdragon I worked on last year- "A snapshot at a maybe", and it's seen as a continuation of the Next Avengers' story after Avengers World; there are small spoilers for Civil War II, but they are few and small as it was written when just the first 2 or 3 issues had been released.

* * *

"Just for the record, if I'll have to call you chicken, I will." James chuckled, smirking, but immediately afterwards, he emitted a low sound that seemed conspicuously like a moan of sufferance, as Torunn hit him, quite strongly, on the side.

On any normal day, Francis would have smirked as well, seeing his "frenemy" rubbing his injured side after having been hit by a team-mate (he wasn't going to point out that James, Super Soldier at the second, had been hit by a _girl._ Not that he couldn't- he just didn't want to. He respected Torunn way too much to merely describe her as a "girl"; she was a Goddess at the second- and he guessed he could forgive James if he moaned a little in pain after having been hit by a goddess), but today wasn't any day.

And Francis had been standing in front of the door _\- of his mother's apartment door_ \- for over fifteen minutes, ten of which with his fist lifted in the air as to knock, but never actually doing it.

The dark blonde archer sighed as he put his hands in his pockets and turned to face his team-mates. Seriously, what was he doing? Did he really think it was a good idea? He didn't know anything about this woman who could come to be- in the future- his mother. Hell, until the day before, he hadn't even known she was his mother to begin with.

And all because he and his father were as closed-off as they came. Seriously- was it really _so hard_ to show him some pictures? Tell him a _bloody name_? But of course Clint Barton couldn't do anything like normal people (not that there was anything even remotely normal in their future, but still…) , otherwise, Francis would have been raised together with the other "kids". Not that he regretted his adventures and the people he had met- because he didn't- but, he guessed it could have been cool. Growing up with people his own age. And who knew? Maybe, all of them together- the Legacy Avengers, Hulk and Stark and his dad- could have done something sooner. Defeat Ultron before they did.

"Are we going to do something? Otherwise we could drop by The Triskelion. My father's there, and I read an article on a thing called "The New York Times" where it was stated that he is assembling there his own team of "Black Avengers" -which, let me tell you, is quite racist as a term. Even for this time. Maybe Storm of the X-Men will be there, too." Azari was looking at his nail, wondering if and when he would have met his mother; he didn't remember his father, but he had like flashes of his mother, the white-haired goddess of the Ancient myths. It had happened a lot, especially since moving into this strange new world that was – or maybe _could be_ –their past; he was starting to wonder if it was all in his head and the time- this _present -_ was influencing him, or if he was really having flashbacks of his infancy.

"They still got X-Men here? I thought that the Terrigen Mists had already nullified the X-Gene by now…." Henry was scratching his chin, doing the math; despite being the younger- and shorter- of the team, he still behaved like the most grown-up one, the one with the more accurate knowledge (which could actually be true), but, even to his friends, it still seemed odd. Someone so young-looking wasn't supposed to be so wise- nor to have lived what any of them had gone through.

 _"I am_ a mutant." Azari answered coolly, with a lifted eyebrow; Francis, despite the circumstances, laughed behind his teeth- Azari, the son of The Black Panther and of Storm, right now seemed more the son of Storm and, given what he had read and seen, of Namor. Seriously- he did look like Namor, with the whole " _Royal Highness who's been offended by ignorant mortals"_ air.

"You are the _last_ mutant. Which is odd. But I think that your mother's X-Gene may have developed a resistance to the Terrigen Mists due to her vampirism. Not that she is a vampire- but she used to be. And something may have stuck with her unknowingly to your parents." Pym looked amazed, lost in his thoughts. He was a bit like his father- lost and happy with the job, forgetting about people. "Man, if I could get my hands on some of her DNA, I could try to hard-drive the mutation into a strand of air-wave virus, thus making the world livable to mutants again… I can already see it… the Nobel, the _"Henry Pym Jr. School for higher learning for gifted youngsters"_ …"

"Let me guess: you are Pym's progeny from the future." The kids turned and looked at the young, smirking woman leaning against the doorframe of the apartment; Chris Stark, dressed with a simple polo shirt and jeans, barefoot, with her long reddish hair knotted messily, seemed both younger than her years- and yet, they could all see in her shiny black eyes both wisdom and sweetness beyond her years. "Hi, kids."

"Did you read our mind?" James asked confused, blushing a little; despite anything- the fact that she knew him to be Steve and Tasha's son, that he wasn't the child she had called him to be, for age and experience, Chris felt the odd compulsion to mess his hair, in the same way her brother and Clint liked to do, just to get a rise out of her.

Chris pointed at the ceiling. "Cameras. You've been staying outside my door for over fifteen minutes. It was starting to get creepy." She put her hands back in her pockets. "So… I'm not sure what I want to know first, if the name of the genius who broke the timeline again or if you are here to see Clint…"

"Dad's here?" Francis gasped. He hadn't seen his father in years- he had met his… current version, a few years back, but he had the feeling that right now it could be… different. Especially in light of the fact that he was about to tell his mother that she was his mother to begin with. Something that neither of them had known when they had met that very first time.

Besides… as far as he knew- well, as far as Pym genius extraordinary knew- Clint and Stark had never been in a relationship before. Hell- maybe even "Tony" didn't know that he was his nephew…

Chris simply smiled, and showed them inside. "My home away from home is your home. Your father is on the couch looking at the Olympics- archery, if you can believe it."

"Actually, Miss Stark, we aren't…" Francis wasn't saying anything, he was simply staring at the woman right before him, his blue eyes lightly glassy, so it James who started talking; the young super-soldier was, though, soon cut short by Pym, who cleared his throat. He had already tried to explain how they were supposed to refer to a woman who had won a Nobel for her discoveries on Quantum Physics. " _Doctor_ Stark, we are actually here for you."

"Uh?" She looked at them, quizzically. She wasn't liking any of this- any time she had been involved with time-travel, things had gone south. She _hated_ time travels- and she wasn't sure she liked that this young Avengers were in the past trying to fix it. People wasn't supposed to play with the time-line, nor know about what could or could not happen- they should have learned that much from their recent ordeal with Ulysses, after all.

Once they were all inside, the door safely closed at their backs, Francis took a big breath, remembering who he was, and how father had raised him to be, and tried to look as strong and possible. "Doctor Stark… I'm Francis Barton, and I'm so sorry to just walk in here like this… but I think... _I know_ I'm your son."

Chris simply stared at them with huge eyes, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like _I think I may need something strong._ Then she took a big breath, and regained her composure, and, scratching the back of her head- in a manner that was so Francis- she showed him to her living room, where Barton father was eating greasy popcorn with watching sports on television- a television Chris turned immediately off, without saying a word.

"Uh?" Clint looked at her quizzically, a mouthful of popcorns still in his mouth; he turned his head slightly to the side, in direction of her accusing finger, and that's when he saw them, still standing on their feet, _almost_ all of them feeling awkward and out of place; he gulped down, and stared at her suspiciously- like she had been the one bringing the "kids" there to begin with. "The future offspring of the Avengers? What are our future kids doing here?"

" _Our_ being the key word here- even if, apparently, you should use it at the singular." If looks could have killed, hers would have done the trick.

"Uh?" Clint repeated, his eyes on Francis; frankly, he wasn't getting _any_ of it. Why were they there? And why was Chris being so mad and frustrating when just the day before she was being all sweet and cute and protective with the whole _Don't worry, I'm not going to abandon you even if you did murder a friend of mine because deep down we are family_?

"I'm your son." Francis clarified. And when he saw that Clint wasn't getting any of it, _again_ , frustrated, he sighed and clarified the whole thing, phrasing it in a way that didn't leave any room for imagination or misunderstanding. "Your son… as in, of both of you. Yours and Christine's."

Clint looked suspiciously between the group of teens and Chris. "Are you sure of what you are saying? Because… don't get me wrong, but, you know… "

Pym cleared his voice. "We are not asking you to take this at face value, that's why we brought the results of some tests with us so that you could…"

"It's not a lie." Chris bite her lips, deep in concentration as, with crossed arms, she stared at Francis. "I can't read his mind- energy mutations are nullified in familiars, like two poles with the same magnetic frequency don't work on each other. So there's a good chance he is who he claims to be. Besides, I've always wanted to call my son Francis."

Clint grinned. "After me? Oh, baby girl, you are _so sweet_ …"

"For Charles Francis Xavier, actually."

Chris turned to face Clint; she was staring at him quizzically, but not in a good way. Which was starting to frustrate him. "Now what?" He grunted, crossing his arms.

She scratched, again, the back of her head, looking between Clint and his future son- _their_ future son. "It's just… odd, I guess. I mean, I haven't thought about you like that in… a lifetime."

Clint lifted an eyebrow. "You do remember that time we almost did the deed, right? You were a very willingly participant, and it's been just a few years back…"

"Yeah, but, still… I honestly thought that, were I to have children again, it would have been with someone…"

Clint grunted. "What? Less decent than me? Because, I hate to break it to you, but your string of boyfriends has been quite negative since you started dating- with that lovely ex-husband of yours, Wisdom and Hellstorm. Trust me-as much of a screw-up as I am, compared to them I'm a saint."

"Were they twins?" Francis asked, suddenly. "You said _again-_ it's because your children were stillborn, right? Twins- a boy and a girl. Dad told me that my mum was scared of not being able of doing it, that something would have gone wrong because it had happened already once with her twins."

"Why. We do have a child together." Clint looked at her, who was standing at crossed arms. Without moving a muscle. "That's you freaking out, right?"

"Yeah. No. I just…" She took a big breath. "Water. I need some cold water. Don't you want some water after all that salty popcorn?"

"No, I actually don't…"

"Yes, you do!" She hissed as she dragged him with brute force to the kitchen, forgetting for one second their guests- but not who they were nor their bomb. "Oh God, that's bad, that's " _end of the world"_ kind of bad…." She moaned as she fell on a chair.

"Now, now, now… you are hurting my male pride…."Clint simply chuckled, but the grin disappeared as soon as he saw that she wasn't calming down; her internal freak-out was turning into a full-scale freak-out, which was more than strange, and worrisome, when it came to Chris. "Is it really that bad? I mean, it's not like we've never thought about it. Besides, you've seen the result. The boy's probably an heartbreaker, and I saw him in action- he's got skills. Maybe even more than I do."

Chris buried her head between her crossed arms, on the table. "I hate time-travel. Do you know what's gonna happen now? Maybe they can have changed reality already! What if by knowing it we don't… you know? Or maybe we will be together, but just because we'll feel like we have to in order to allow Francis to be born? That's _awful_!"

"Now, now, now…" He patted her on the head, like she was a child; he looked at a sighing Chris; she looked like a baby, and, despite that one occasion when things had _almost_ happened, he had never felt, well, _lust_ for her. Chris wasn't the kind of woman who inspired lust in men: she was serious, extremely smart and elegant, and even her costume were more on the practical side, rather than sexy like many of their co-workers often wore; he wasn't saying she wasn't beautiful, but her beauty was natural and discreet, like some lady from an old time.

He sighed. As modern and free as Chris claimed to be, she didn't do one-night stands, and slept only with men she loved deeply and was serious with; if they had- they were going to have- a child together, well, he was pretty sure that Francis was going to be born inside a long-term relationship. Or maybe he was going to be the cause of a long-term relationship.

Clint looked at her quizzically, with a lifted eyebrow. "You wouldn't have pity sex with me, right? Or just to keep me away from some girl you don't want me to date?" Chris lifted her head, and stared at him like she could kill him in that very moment, and grunted something very un-lady like. "Now, see? You feel better already!"

She groaned something, her head on her right hand. "I hate you, Barton."

But Clint only smirked. "Yeah, but one day, you will not. I mean… Have you seen our kid over there? Man, I can't wait to meet him!" Clint chuckled, looking in direction of the living room, where the kids were seated and were looking television, awaiting for the "adults", knowing all too well that what the couple needed was some room to clear the waters a little bit; he turned to look at Chris, and interlaced their fingers on the table. "You are gonna be so amazing! I mean, you mothered Tony, and me, and Drake, and over half of the Avengers and of the X-Men… I can't wait to see you with our kid!"

Chris blushed lightly, a bit uncomfortable with their interlaced fingers. "Oh, you are so sweet, Barton."

Clint cleared his throat, blushing too as he saw that he was still holding her hand, and it let it go, before turning to look yet again in direction of the kids. "Do you think that they are here to make sure that each and every one of them will be born?"

Chris shuddered. "I think they wanted to meet us- I mean, most of their parents know about that time the Avengers went to the future and met their children. They are to fix the past, Clint, and they know that, even if they were to make it, they could just ensure the birth of an alternate reality and come back to the same future. They know there's a good chance they'll never meet their families, so they want to… see us. Understand if what my brother told them about the Avengers was right."

"Yes, but…" Clint sighed. "I remember what they told me when I first met them, a few years back… I can't get why Tony never told Francis he was your kid? Or why not taking him in like he did with the rest of the children?"

Chris lifted an eyebrow. "Have I been talking with my brother lately?" She rhetorically asked.

"Right." Chris was right: her relationship with Tony had been, at best, stranded; when The Scarlet Witch had returned from "oblivion", Chris had told Tony that, allowing her back on the team, he was doing a mistake, that sooner or later she would have lost control over her powers and done something awful. It had happened, and a result, Tony had become a dark, evil version of himself, that had tried to murder both his sister and Daredevil when they had tried to stop him from dosing half of America with Extremis.

She had sort of forgiven him for that- she knew he hadn't been himself- but she had kept being on edge around him. And besides, even if she wasn't considering that he had bankrupted her and that, by going after Ulysses in a foreign nation, he had caused Karnack to bring their home down, there was still the fact that now he had decided that he needed to find his real family- like she and Arno weren't really his family, like she wasn't his sister. Chris too had been adopted, and yet she had never thought of Tony of not being her real family, and it was hard to accept that it was different for him.

Sighing, Chris stood, and prepared something for their "guests"; she guessed that she was going to have to deal with a lot of small talk, and maybe… well, if the guys wanted to do the meet and greet, they were going to need a guide. Someone from this world and this time. Someone who, like them had felt way too often like a fish out of water.

Who knew. Maybe it was going to be fun…


	3. Chapter 3

"Legacy" is going to be a miniseries- seven chapters- and a still undertermined number of small filling-in chapters; the story is the sequel to a chapter of Blackdragon I worked on last year- "A snapshot at a maybe", and it's seen as a continuation of the Next Avengers' story after Avengers World; there are small spoilers for Civil War II, but they are few and small as it was written when just the first 2 or 3 issues had been released.

* * *

Henry had been silent for almost the whole card ride to Janet's current place; Chris, frankly, couldn't blame the kid one bit, wondering if, maybe, just maybe, he did feel like she did when she Howard and Maria welcomed her into their household as their daughter after her parents' passing - even if Howard and Maria were friends with her parents, she hadn't been that close to them, and one day, she was being introduced to people who were her _parents_.

Besides, there was something more about Henry- he wasn't like the other kids, after all. He was younger - a baby, compared to the oldest of the team, _"her"_ Francis" – but, mostly, he took a lot after his father, Hank.

She and Pym Senior had always been at odds; more often than not, he would have been the first one to dismiss her, call her a child; Chris had often assumed that he was among the people who believed that everything she had gotten, she had been served on a silver plate, and that she didn't have enough experience to be counted among… well _, the elite_ , in a certain way.

Hank _was_ arrogant- a bit like his X-Men namesake- but she had always felt that it was mostly a mask; he was a man like all of them -maybe even more than them- and he had spent his life fighting with people like Reed, smarter than anyone else, or Tony, smart, charismatic and rich. He was… _frail?_ It was a bad word. But she guessed it was right. He was someone who, deep down, felt inadequate and tried very hard to compensate.

His son- Henry- was just like that. But, adding to the dangerous and explosive mix the fact that he was a genius who didn't feel understood by his peers and had been raised "alone", with only, for God's sake, _Tony Stark_ to support him, and that he was extremely shy… Well, she did understand why he felt a bit scared and insecure about meeting his mother.

(That, and the fact that technically his father was, well, dead. Or at least, half-human, half-Ultron.)

"Henry? You all right?" She asked him as the wind disheveled her hair. She sighed. She wondered why the hell she had told the "children" she would have "guided" them in this voyage of self-discovery. She did know how people called her- the " _fixer_ "- and she was well aware that she tended to not mind her own business a little too much. But maybe that had been a step she wasn't supposed to take. Maybe she would have been better minding her own business, as meeting her son- _her son with Clint, for God's sake-_ had traumatized her enough for a few lifetimes.

But, sighing, her eyes fixed on the road ahead once again, she knew that she couldn't really have done that; she had, unconsciously, tried to put herself in their shoes, wondering what would have happened, how she would have felt, if, at their age, she had gotten to meet for some reason her birth parents- even regaining her memories had been pretty traumatic, and yet, she had been an adult. How could they feel, then?

Henry mumbled something, and Chris _Uhm-ed_ him; at which, the kid sighed, and turned to face the much older scientist. "I just… ever since Tony found out I inherited my father's affinity with science, I pushed myself, escaped into work, because I wanted to prove that I was worthy of… I don't know, acceptance, maybe? But, back home I just had Antony, here, instead…"

"You've got them." She finished his words, smiling.

Henry sighed, burying himself in the seat. "Well, my mother, at least. The timeline is so different from what we were told, sometimes I still wonder if _that future_ will be _my future_."

 _If I'll even be born to begin with,_ Chris felt- heard- his thoughts loud and clear. Chris sighed, suddenly saddened. She wondered if Torunn felt the same way- both she and Henry had at least a parent that was currently presumed death, and they were probably both wondering what was going to happen to them.

"Has anyone ever told you about the time Past Cyclops and Present Cyclops were fighting… I think it was Sentinels… together?" She asked; Henry turned to her, lifting quizzically his eyebrows, but he didn't say a word. " Anyway, we were all fighting- yes, I was there too- when Summers the young is hit by a beam of energy, and his heart stops beating. Next thing we know, we turn to look at Summers- _our_ Summers, I mean- and he has vanished in this air, and we are confused for a fraction of second because _we don't remember_ who we were supposed to be looking for, all right? But then Triage saves Young Summers, and our Scott comes back right before our eyes, like he had never left to begin with…."

Henry looked at her, a little annoyed, and yet wondering what her point exactly was. "Is that a lesson on power, responsibility and time-travel and how we shouldn't get too involved with the past, Butterfly Effect and all that jazz?"

Chris chuckled. "Yeah. And about the fact that you haven't ceased to exist yet, so there's good chance you _will_ be born in the next few years. Besides, if there's something I've learnt as an X-Man- and that _you_ should know as a scientist- is that sometimes you don't need a father for a child to be born. Ever heard of X-23? They used a drop of blood from the original Wolverine to make her _. A single drop_." Chris sighed. "Listen… I don't know what people had told you, or what idea you have of your parents. But I can assure you that Janet, your mum, is extremely easy-going. I mean- she almost talked me into starting to wear a red and gold costume and change my _nom du guerre_ , and I still like her."

"Just not like you do Clint and Miss Morse?" He asked as, once arrived at Janet's mansion, they were leaving the car; Chris smiled a little- there was no trace of malice in Henry's voice, he just meant what he had said- and she did have a special and deeper relationship with the archer and his ex.

She shrugged as they walked across the yard. "Clint has always known my secret identity- and when he married Bobbi, she sort of got on the wagon as well. Your mother… well, she is a far more recent acquaintance."

"But you don't like my dad." Again, it was a statement- even he was grinning a little.

"Your dad and I agreed to disagree a long time ago. Especially when it comes to my supposed geniality."

They were ready to knock at the huge white door when it suddenly opened, but, instead of welcoming them inside, Janet walked past them in direction of a chopper, parked in her garden. "Hey kid, you must be Henry. Chris, love your shoes, and the patters of that blouse really works for you. Let's roll, we'll quiz each other en-route and we'll be back as soon as we are done!"

Janet and a very smiling Henry were already on the chopper, when Janet, grinning, turned to look at Chris. "You coming to defuse a bomb that's threatening to swallow the East Coast into Microverse of what?" Chris looked at the chopped in disbelief, still unsure of what was happening. Two days ago a kid knocked at her door and told her he was her son from the future with Clint Barton, then she was driving another kid from the future to see his mother… and now Janet wanted to go and have an adventure with her? After that Chris hadn't been formally active for months?

"So, Miss Stark, what do you say? Clock's ticking!" Janet grinned.

But Chris shook her head, a bit saddened; she had always an adventure- that was why she had always enjoyed her "line of work", she had absolutely loved all the adventures she had had through the Multiverse with Excalibur, back in the day; but as much as she missed that part of her life… now it wasn't about her. It was about Janet and _her son from the future_ (it still felt strange to say it out loud- to even _think_ about it) and besides… she knew the sad truth. She had been protected by the deadly effects of the Terrigen Mists, but the Inhumans' boo-weapon had still messed her DNA up; she wasn't as in control of her telepathy and telekinesis as she used to be, long gone was the woman who, for a short while, had been Earth's most powerful mutant.

And an out-of-control mutant was no good for the world- not when mutants were already feared as they were now- and way too dangerous for anyone's sake. Which meant that her days in the field were gone. At least for now.

"Nah. The Microverse it's your family thing, after all."

When she looked at the chopper lifted in the air, with Janet and Henry happy and carefree on board, a little piece of her heart broke, sending shivers all over hew whole being; she knew she was doing the right thing- but still, she was missing her old life more than she was ready to admit, more than she let people believe.

Apparently, the only thing she was good for right now was offering people comfort- and driving a bunch of kids from the future around, so that they could be introduced to their parents.

She was making people happy. Granting them their desires. And maybe… at the end of the road, there would have been something for her as well.

It was enough for now. It was _definitely_ more than enough for now.


	4. Chapter 4

"Legacy" is going to be a miniseries- seven chapters- and a still undertermined number of small filling-in chapters; the story is the sequel to a chapter of Blackdragon I worked on last year- "A snapshot at a maybe", and it's seen as a continuation of the Next Avengers' story after Avengers World; there are small spoilers for Civil War II, but they are few and small as it was written when just the first 2 or 3 issues had been released.

* * *

From the moment she first met him, Chris knew that James _had_ to be Steve's son; It wasn't anything physical- he didn't look like his father, but nor like his mother, actually- but how he acted. How he behaved. It was just like Steve… only, not a mini-Steve raised by his own father.

As she was, along with the teenager, expecting the Rogers to answer the door, Chris realized that, deep down, the kid wasn't simply like Steve- he was like Tony had seen Steve for so long. Rogers was, often, the better man, but he wasn't perfect simply because his body had been made so- and yet, she could see, whenever she looked at him, whenever she looked at the guy, that he craved perfection- that he would have done everything to become so. That, deep down, he assumed that he was the best of them. That being the leader was his birth-right.

Had she been alone, she would have sighed. Seeing those children behaving all too often like brats, being stubborn and arrogant, broke her heart; she didn't blame them- it was imply how they had been raised. How _Tony_ had raised them, to be more accurate.

The all too familiar sting of rage, disappointment and regret hit her hard- she felt guilty. She barely knew this children, and she felt guilty towards each and every one of them, and not only her son- her future son. She didn't know why she hadn't been there, if it was Ultron who took her out or some other Power, and she knew it was sick and twisted and just bloody _idiotic_ , but she felt guilty- like she had abandoned them, neglected them by allowing Tony- who shouldn't be trusted _even with a Micro-wave oven_ \- to raise those children on his own.

They weren't normal- how could they be, with their parentage and the world they had been raised into? – but… it was like… they weren't the best version of themselves, for some reason. And she did have a distinct feeling that it may very well have to do with her brother…

She shook her head. It wasn't the time for that- it wasn't fair for any of the teens, and it wasn't fair to her; she knew herself, after all, and if she hadn't been there for her family- for her own son, for God's sake!- there had to be a bloody good reason; losing the twins hurt, broke her heart in a way that she knew would never come fully undone, that's why she knew for sure that she would have never abandoned another child of hers. No matter how he had come to be or who his father was.

As she was musing about what the future could hold for her, the door to the cute, small town house opened, revealing the three people who were expecting young James; Steve Rogers, back as young man, his wife, Sharon, now a middle aged woman, close to retiring, after her time in Dimension Z, and Tasha; they were all smiling, but Tasha's one was more of a curious smirk, while Chris could see that Sharon was trying, very hard, and would have preferred to be everywhere but there. Or maybe vanish in thin air.

"Christine, welcome. It's good to see you." The ever-polite Steve said, squeezing her shoulder, and then offering his hand to James to squeeze. "James. It's good to see you again."

"Thank you, Sir." The kid answered, blushing a little.

"No need to be so formal, Handsome. You are with family here, after all." Tasha smirked, and messed the kid's hair- just like he was so much younger than what he actually was. It was strange- it wasn't like she completely lacked motherly instinct, but, still, she had never herself like the kind of woman who would go and have a child.

But, if she had to be honest, who she didn't completely understand was why _Steve._ Yes, she loved him, yes, she did care about him, and yes- they've been flirting in the past, but that was long gone, and besides, he wasn't her type; she would have never chosen him to father a child to begin with.

 _But,_ she guessed, looking at the child with some longing, she guessed that, even if she would have never chosen Steve to father a child with, she would have chosen him to be her baby's father. He was a good friend, a good mentor. Just, too different from her. Especially where it mattered.

Feeling the eyes of everyone fixed on her, Tasha pretended that nothing had been on her mind until that moment, and, smirking, looked at Chris.

"How's Clint doing? Still seeing pink elephants?"

"Nah." Chris chuckled, shrugging. "He just saw them for, like, 24 hours. But he is like a big, pouting child when he wants to, and he is making it much, much worse than what it actually is. I'm pretty sure he'll never make me live this one down."

"Stark." Sharon politely said, with a nod of her head- she and Chris had met each other just a few times; it wasn't like they weren't in a good relationship- they simply weren't in any kind of relationship. They were, if they could call themselves like that, _acquaintances_. "James."

Sharon didn't add a word- understandable, given the circumstances- so it was Steve who broke the ice.

"So, I've been told you wanted to know more about your own family, James. There's some cake and hot chocolate in our living room, if you want some. I think it would be more comfortable speaking there." he showed James inside, smiling already like a proud parent, and yet, still with that expression- the Captain America expression, as it was known- printed on his face. "Christine? Would you like to join us?"

Chris shook her head, smiling politely at the small group. "No, thank you very much. I think I'll go looking for a bar- it's almost five, and the Brit in me wants to have her tea."

But Sharon shook her head. "I just made coffee, if you want. But I could make you some tea, if you really prefer. You've already driven all the way up here…" Chris looked at Sharon, and her heart broke a tiny bit. The other woman wanted for her to stay there. Because the idea of being alone with her husband, the child he will have one day with another woman and said other woman, it was probably too much for Sharon to handle. _Please,_ she seemed to say. _I'd rather being alone with a complete stranger than with them._

Chris knew that there was no evil, no bitterness, behind Sharon's actions- just sadness and desperation. For what she had lost, twice, and what she knew she couldn't give Steve any longer.

"All right. Coffee will do." The mutant answered, pretending to be as happy as carefree as people all too often saw her. As she said so, with tears burning her eyes, excusing herself between half-chocked sobs, Sharon hurried herself to the kitchen; while Steve and Tasha were walking James into the living room to exchange pleasantries- because there was no better word for it- and make small talk with James, Chris joined Sharon in the kitchen; the blonde woman was sitting at the table, lost in her thoughts, deep in concentration, and without expecting to be told- without even asking- Chris helped herself a cup of coffee from the top, and gave Sharon another one, as she went to seat right before the older woman.

"I hope you really don't mind. I'm normally more of a tea kind of person- British Stereotypes and all- but sometimes there's nothing better than a good cup of coffee, no?" She lied. She would have preferred some tea, but she had decided to stay, and she would have done with what there was. She wasn't going to impose over Sharon, not when she was already going through something clearly painful, but she would have been more than glad to offer a shoulder to cry on. A listening ear.

Sharon took the offered cup, and managed a tired, forced smile- the kind that was merely polite, and for the sake of her guests; they stood in silence, Sharon staring at coffee, Chris drinking it and studying the woman, waiting for her to break the ice- and she knew that Sharon would have eventually done so. Because, in a certain way, they were both struggling with the same thing. Even if, in a certain sense, it was worse for her.

"I should tell the kid I'm sorry." Sharon managed to say, her eyes still on the now cold liquid. But Chris shook her head.

"It's ok. He is a thought kid. Besides, it's my fault. I shouldn't have forced this on any of you. And anyway…" Chris smirked. "The kids come from the future- a future that hasn't been happened yet, that's still in flux. As far as we know, that future may _never_ come to fruition."

But Sharon shook her head. "No, it's not… it's not because he is Natasha's or anything like that. It's just that… I thought that I could do it, but…"

Sharon sighed, and Chis covered her hand with one of her own. "You miss your son- You miss Ian, and… Steve's baby too. I understand- trust me, it's the truth."

The former X-Woman sighed as well, and closed her eyes, as tears menaced to escape. "I lost my babies." She confessed. "Over one year ago. Twins. They were stillborn, and… they didn't make it. And now…" she paused, shook her head, smiling a bit like a maniac, like she was crazy, like, deep down, she still couldn't quite believe it herself. "Now there's a teenager at my apartment, sleeping in my guest-room, and he is the son that I will have with my best friend."

Sharon mouthed a "thanks" and squeezed Chris' hand, and for a while they again didn't say a word, but the air was now completely different- it was freer, lighter- and the two woman could finally enjoy their quiet companionship.

"I never thought that Steve would love Bucky so much to call his son after him." Sharon chuckled, and smiled a bit mischievous. "But maybe it's after James Howlett- Logan? I remember reading in a SHIELD file that he had known her since she was a child. That he did save her back in Russia when she was little."

Chris wasn't saying a word- her look, her frown, her concentration, suggested that there was something going on with her. That she was thinking- considering- something. That she was worried.

Sharon didn't know Chris very well- she had left SHILED immediately after the Super Hero Registration Act, back when Chris had been enlisted by the Initiative- but she had heard the stories, and read enough about the brunette to be aware that something was clearly going on with her- something was going on through that pretty head of hers- and whenever it happened, it couldn't be good.

"What are you thinking about?" Sharon asked.

"Uhm." Chris answered. Then, she cleared her voice a little. "Probably the same thing you are thinking as well, the same thing that even Clint Barton thinks but none of us has been blunt enough to say at loud."

"James looks a lot like Natasha…" Sharon started, closing her eyes and lowering her voice as she finished the sentence, like she was scared that someone could hear her. "But nothing like Steve."

"No," Chris agreed. "He looks a lot like the other James, though- _like Barnes_."

Sharon closed her eyes, sighed, like in relief. "So, I'm not crazy, right?" Which she wouldn't put past herself. Not after the way Faust and Sin played with her mind, at least. Who knew if there were going to be any long-lasting effects? Or others that would manifest _years_ after the fact?

"I haven't done any DNA test- but, he does look a lot like Bucky. He may have Steve's name- but I have the distinct feeling that he could be Tasha's love child with James." Chris sighed, her arms crossed as she thought. "I've overheard snippets of conversation. They think that something awful will happen- that James did something, even if they don't know what exactly. They just know what my brother told them."

"And you don't trust your own brother'" Sharon smirked as she said so.

" _Please._ I've been in the spy business long enough to not trust anyone. Especially _him_." Chris re-became serious, and joined her hands under her chin, her elbows on the table. "I don't know what happened- if James died or simply did something stupid and Rogers walked in as the father so that the child didn't have to know what his biological dad did- but, Sharon, trust me. It's wiser to leave sleeping dogs sleep. I met a guy who discovered as an adult that he had been adopted, and it didn't do him any good. He destroyed all the good relationships he had. He started to resent his so-called parents and put distance between himself and his siblings. And I'm not sure he'll ever be able to rebuilt his relationship with them."

Chris didn't know how much Sharon knew- she was a big head in SHIELD, and she did work with the so-called former Whisper, but she hoped that Carter wasn't aware that she was talking about herself- about herself, Tony and Arno, and about how things had gone to hell between the three of them.

(Even if The Scarlet Witch's spell, that turned Tony evil, helped a lot. Having Evil Tony bad-mothing her and trying to kill her really didn't help their relationship. Especially when Evil Tony was saying the same things that Drunk Tony used to.)

Sharon sighed, smiling a little, dreamily, like she was remembering something she didn't want to share with anyone. "Yeah. I can totally see Steve doing something like that. Once he sets his mind of something, there's no turning back. And since he is who he is, people tends to follow him without questions asked."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Chris chuckled, thinking about the past, remembering all too well the time when, after Osborn's Fall from Grace, Steve had taken control of SHIELD with Hill, and he had talked her into joining the Avengers ( _and_ wearing a _costume_. One that was a black version of Emma's one. And a _cape_. Something that so wasn't in her cords. And all while she currently was an MI:13 asset.); Steve had said few simple words, "I want you into the Avengers", and all she had been able to answer was " _Yes sir_ ". Without even thinking about it. No question asked.

"Sharon," Chris said, her eyes, and tone, suddenly sad and serious. That was not the time for levity or jokes or fond memories. "James is just a kid, and he has no faults- you said it yourself. Steve and Tasha are the only parents he had ever known of. _Please._ Don't do this to him."

 _I'm begging you to,_ Chris thought, but she never voiced the thought. She hoped that her eyes would be screaming it loud enough. The kids- The Next Line of Avengers- were good kids. They weren't perfect, but then again, neither were their parents. Far from it, actually. And those poor kids had seen, and lived though, enough as it was, without having to deal with some additional crap. They world had fallen- literally- and they didn't need for it to fall metaphorically speaking as well.

(After all, not all of them could be like Francis, who was more than OK with discovering that The Blackdragon, and not Mockingbird, was his mother; of course he had been upset, _but_ then again, Future Clint had never spelled his mother's name, and her identity had been more of a guest than something he was sure of.)

"Ehy, Doc, you fished gossiping? Cause the guys called, and if you are done we would really _kill_ for a pizza right now…"

"Yeah. I think I am." Chris stood, and offered her hand to Sharon to shake. "It was good talking with you, Sharon. Sometimes, we find kindred spirits in the most unlikely places, don't you think?"

"Yes." Sharon answered, holding Chris' hand between both of hers, and squeezing thigh. She was smiling with teary eyes- but it was out of relief, this time. It was good to know that someone understood her a tiny little bit.

They weren't friends- that was Natasha's thing, after all – but they could be… confidents, at least.

Maybe.


	5. Chapter 5

"Legacy" is going to be a miniseries- seven chapters- and a still undertermined number of small filling-in chapters; the story is the sequel to a chapter of Blackdragon I worked on last year- "A snapshot at a maybe", and it's seen as a continuation of the Next Avengers' story after Avengers World; there are small spoilers for Civil War II, but they are few and small as it was written when just the first 2 or 3 issues had been released.

* * *

"Can I ask if you are usually this quiet without risking getting my head cut off?"

As they walked through the corridors of the Triskelion, Chris turned to look at the young Azari; he was looking at her quizzically- but with a hint of worry in those azure eyes that were the same as Storm- so unusual on an African boy like him; Chris didn't answer- she simply looked at him, as to wait for the kid to further explain himself. Even if, actually, she didn't have to.

She knew what he meant, after all- it wasn't like she and the People at the Triskelion had been in such a good relationship, after all. During the inside conflict spurred from Ulysses' powers, she hadn't picked a side up; her powers out of control, mutants as hated as never before, she had preferred to stay out of the limelight. And yet, it hadn't been enough: her place had been decided by her surname, and when the Inhumans attacked her company, going after the employees instead of her brother of herself, and innocent lives got lost, she had been forced to make a stand.

That she was a mutant- hence an enemy of the Inhumans by birthright- had had just added fuel to an already growing fire, and this had complicated her already present issues with Storm and the rest of the X-Men. Chris knew that Storm had sided with the Inhumans as a way to try to make people forget what Scott Summers had done, but still, for the technarc, it didn't make any sense. Hadn't Storm been the one who, years prior, had gathered a team of X-Men, Chris included, so that they could find and destroy Destiny's Diaries? Back then, Storm had tried to do anything in her power to protect the future, and now she was willing to go against anything she ever stood for- and for what, politics?

"I am sorry to disappoint you, Your Highness, but yes. I am _indeed_ usually this quiet."

Azari chuckled; his eyes shone- in a way that showed that he was too smart for his own good. Maybe even too arrogant. She hoped that Tony and whoever was training the mid in the future would improve over time, because those two things didn't agree with the life of the hero- the life they had chosen for themselves.

"Yes, I may agree with you on this. And yet, what worries me is your choose of gear. You didn't go with your usual apparel- a jeans and polo- nor with the black jeans and the green t-shirt with your logo that you seem to favor. You went formal and stylish. Which, I got when you drove Henry to meet his mom, given her line of work. But now, at a first glance, it doesn't seem to make any sense. Unless…"

"Unless?" She asked quizzically, waiting to see where he was going- and if he was going where she thought he would.

"Unless, you wanted to remember people who you are first- Christine Stark, daughter of Howard and Maria, sister to Tony, billionaire, genius and industrialist."

He was grinning, very satisfied. He knew he was right and he liked it.

"You, my boy," Chris chuckled, shaking her head with a smile on her lips; "are definitely your father's son."

They were going to keep talking- Chris wanted to tell Azari about the time his father had walked out of the Illuminati, and a few other things she guessed the kid had never learnt of (she had the feeling that Future Tony wasn't the sharing kind of man; somehow, she didn't see him telling the kids about how their parents got together, or about the King and the Queen's marriage back when the First Civil War was taking place), when she heard someone calling her name, almost timidly, with a low voice, like she didn't know if she was allowed to do such a thing or not.

"Chris?"

As Azari saw his parents walking towards them, they stopped in their tracks, and turned to face the woman; Carol Danvers took the few steps separating them, a sad and hurtful expression on her face. Chris simply stood there, her arms crossed, as cold as ice, as a stone.

" _Carol_." She almost hissed, and the blonde hero was suddenly taken aback; the two women had known each other for a long time. They hadn't been merely team-mates, they hadn't just fought together, at each other's side; they had friends- _real_ friends. And now, Chris could barely look at Carol. Could barely disguise the rage and the disgust when facing someone she would have given her life for until a few months back. It wasn't the first time they were seeing each other after what had happened with Tony, but it had had always been around other people, when they didn't have to face each other, where and when they could pretend that everything was all right, that they had already buried the machete. But now was different.

Carol sighed, her eyes closed. "Look, you don't like this, I get it. But… can we talk, please? _Really_ talk."

"Like you talked with Alison Green, you mean? Remember her? Ulysses gave you a vision. Told you she would have put a bomb for Hydra. You arrested her without any evidence. Behaved like some Guantanamo Soldier. You destroyed her world and only once she was out she did join Hydra and put a bomb for them. Only to get back at _you_."

"It's not fair." Carol whispered, wondering if Chris knew how painful it was. How she was hurting her with her tone and her words.

"Maybe we should ask Rhodey. Or Bruce. Maybe even my brother, uh?" She paused, and turned, started to walk towards T'Challa and Ororo when she heard Carol talking; her voice wasn't low any longer, but teary, and it carried anger and resentment.

"Bruce was your friend- and even if Clint killed him… he gets to be forgiven. But _I don't,_ even if you know that I didn't sanction it- _any_ of it?"

Chris turned, and took the few steps that were separating them; she and Carol were so close that there was barely a breath of air between them. " _You_ put Clint in that position. You may have very well shoot _tha_ t arrow, Carol. If you had left Bruce stay, he would still be alive. And Clint- my… my best friend wouldn't be hurting right now. Wouldn't feel bad because he is not in a bloody cell!"

"I thought you would have gotten this. You were in X-Force. You were in a team that had sanctioned the murder of _a kid_."

As the words left Carol's lips, Chris knew that the woman she had once known as a friend regretted them immediately; maybe, just maybe, deep down, Carol regretted much more than that- but they both knew that turning back time after what had happened wasn't going to be easy. Maybe one day they would have been able to talk again, to be around each other like they used to. But today was not the day. Not after Carol had said this.

"I _left_ X-Force when I learnt of what they wanted to do to Genesis. Because, even if I could get it, I didn't like it. I knew there had to be another way. Just like with miss Green, I guess."

"The intel was right. She did put the bomb and…"

But Chris barely resisting shaking her head. "She put a bomb because of you. If you had done your work, she would have never done such a thing. The kid got you intel, Carol- and when you got intel, you don't arrest people. Especially not with an army of super-heroes and heavily armed SHEILD agents. You _investigate. Then_ you make an arrest. There is a reason it's called Intelligence, you know? And I'm sorry to say right now you don't seem to get it. "

"Doctor, Captain, enough. This is not the place _. Please_." Chris turned, and saw that T'Challa was now standing right before them; their eyes met, and she knew that, even if he had said "please", his words had been an order. One she followed only out of respect because it was in _his_ home that she was – merely a guest on Wakandian soil.

"Christine." The white-haired goddess of winds smiled fondly at her former partner; Chris could see that., despite the still lingering feelings between the King and his (ex) wife, there was still some tension between the two of them; T'Challa could be wise and smart, but he was prone to vengeance like any common mortal, and he still remembered that it had been a mutant to almost destroy his kingdom- it didn't matter if Namor had been possessed by the Phoenix Force, or if he had been long death since then. Ororo, in his eyes, was still his enemy.

"Ehy, 'Ro." Chris smiled, her lips tight. She and Storm too were having divergent visions, and had been on different sides of the conflict, back when the War had erupted, but Ororo knew that, hadn't the Inhumans involved innocents, Chris would have stayed out there. She would have spoken her reasons, of course- but at the end, her hand had been forced. Like Chris knew that the only reason Storm had involved the X-Men was so that the Inhumans wouldn't find another reason to annihilate Mutantkind; Ororo had fought for Destiny's diaries- to have them destroyed. Chris knew what she thought about changing the future based on premonitions.

They both had played with the card that the game had dealt them with. Nothing more, nothing less. That was why, deep down, Chris knew that eventually they would have been ok. Sooner rather than later, maybe. They were friends- and they had too many memories, too much keeping them together, close to each other- too much that unified them. More than what divided them.

Azari wanted to say something, had been wondering for a long time how he would have approached his parents, but he really was at loss for words. He was a bit… disappointed? He wasn't sure it was the right word. He just knew that a), his dad was very, _very_ uptight, and b)he seemed to want to strangle his mom- Ororo- for the mere fact that she had smiled at Christine. Well, maybe strangling wasn't the right word- but Azari could see that he didn't feel like she was doing the right thing.

Besides, King T'Challa was looking at him with a lifted eyebrow, and not in a good way. The king was judging him- whatever he was worth the throne and the title, and mostly if he was telling the truth, about coming from the future and being _their_ son.

"Your Highnesses." Azari said, but then he cleared his voice, realizing the mistake he had just done- his mother wasn't Queen any longer, nor yet again. "My King. Lady Ororo."

Ororo smiled, fond of the kid already, not caring if it was true or not that he was her son- that he _would be_ her son in the future; T'Challa wasn't making any movement, he was just staring at the kid, intensively, making Azari shiver.

He would have never guessed that he would have scared of his own father, but he guessed there was a first time for everything, and that maybe, just maybe, he had overestimated parental feelings and obligations.

"So, what's the Panther God telling you?" Ororo asked The King, smirking; T'Challa grunted something in response, clearly not liking that Ororo had dared to even just contemplate the idea of making fun of the Almighty Panther God, and yet, Chris would have sworn that she had seen him actually _blush_.

"The kid's not lying- there is indeed my blood running through his veins. The panther can feel our bloodline's power."

Chris smirked, pushing with an hand Azari closer to his parents. "I could have told you this myself, T'Challa. You aren't the only one embodied with magic."

As she said so, she turned on her heels; this was going to be their moment. She was just a guide for them here, nothing more, nothing else, she had defined herself their chaperone, but she had known she had been wrong. The kids needed her- and not only her Francis. She was like… a mediator. But from that moment on- once getting together, the kids accepting who their parents were, and her friends understanding that it was right to give the future a chance, without question it too much, and yet without getting too much involved, well, done that, she was done and dealt with.

Her eyes met Carol's as she was leaving, and in her heart, she hoped that one day, they too would have been all right.


End file.
